


a jackson christmas.

by sniikt



Category: The Last of Us (Video Games)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, F/M, First Christmas, ignores tlou2
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:21:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27841396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sniikt/pseuds/sniikt
Summary: twenty-five days of various christmas joel/reader fics. fics will range from the crushing phase of their relationship to marriage, without any particular order. written with a female reader in mind, but most chapters will be gender neutral.
Relationships: Dina/Ellie (The Last of Us), Joel/Reader
Kudos: 15





	1. day one: ornaments.

**Author's Note:**

> hey! it's the christmas season. enjoy some cheesy joel/reader crushing

It’s Joel’s first Christmas in Jackson. He seems to have just begun to realize just how big of a deal Christmas is here—strings of lights started showing up between street lights the week before Thanksgiving, and now there’s not a storefront on main street that doesn’t have lights, greenery, and trees outside. 

You’re on guard shift with him one day—you seem to have most shifts with him lately, but you don’t mind—he’s nice and a little funny, and being with him is easy, even if it makes your stomach flip and spin in a giddy sort of way you haven’t felt since high school. You’re leaning on the bar of the wall, eyes scanning the horizon for hoards that will inevitably start moving through with the changing seasons and increasing snow storms. Joel’s standing next to you, cleaning his rifle. You’ve settled into an easy sort of silence, comfortable with each other’s company, but it’s interrupted by Ellie storming up the tower, Dina in tow. They’re both giggling—although you know Ellie would deny doing anything of the sort. 

“Joel!” She shouts, racing across the walkway toward the two of you, as Dina jogs behind her to catch up. She all but skids to a stop in front of Joel, looking up at him with the sort of energy only a teenager can muster. “We gotta get a Christmas tree.”

Joel makes a startled noise, something between a cough and a snort. “Why’s that?”

“Okay, okay.” Ellie says, as if gathering all her thoughts on the subject. “It’s a tree. But you put it in your fucking  _ house _ ! How weird is that?”

Joel’s brow furrows, and he gives a soft chuckle. “Okay, kiddo. I mean we were gonna get one anyway, but if it’s  _ that  _ important we have a tree in our house.”

Ellie rocks back and forth on her heels. “When?” She asks, as Joel slings his gun over his shoulder and leans back against the railing as if considering.

“You doin’ anything this weekend?” 

She grins, giving a slight bounce and a hissed “yes!” of excitement, and just as quickly as she came, she’s gone.

Joel turns to you. “You free this weekend?”

* * *

You’re not exactly sure why you were invited on the Christmas tree excursion, but it’s growing harder and harder to say no to Joel, so he didn’t have to argue his case too hard. So early one Saturday morning, you join a tired looking Joel and an eager looking Ellie in the stables. 

As you ride, Joel convinces Ellie that you need to head into town first—that you need decorations to make it a Christmas tree, and not just a tree in your house. (You get the sense that Ellie thinks having a tree inside is hilarious either way.) But Ellie agrees, and you ride into town. 

It only takes a couple stores to find one that has some Christmas decorations stocked in the back. The three of you pick through the boxes, setting aside things you might want. Deep in one of the boxes, you find an ornament of a cowboy, snow dusted, with a small Christmas tree next to him. He leans against his horse, arms crossed. It really wouldn’t be all that interesting, except the cowboy is dressed in a brown jacket, with a bit of green flannel poking out from beneath it, and from a certain angle it looks like Joel.

“Hey,” you say, lifting it so he can see. “It’s you!”

Joel lifts his head to inspect the statue, with a smothered grin. “Nah,” he says, shaking his head. “Face is all wrong.”

You laugh, turning the ornament toward you, and squinting as if inspecting it closely. “I dunno. Snow swept cowboy? Green flannel and all? He’s just as handsome too.”

There’s a moment's pause, as your brain catches up with what you’d just said, and you try to gauge if you’ve embarrassed Joel or if he’s just being polite and ignoring what you said altogether. 

Of course it wasn’t a lie or some big secret—you thought he was handsome. But your friendship had been so carefully built to throw away for a childish crush.

For once, you wish Ellie could interrupt with a gag, or an over dramatic “gross!”. But she’s moved to a box far enough away that she hasn’t heard your admission.

Joel breaks the silence with a soft chuckle, as if he’s suddenly grown a little shy, but it’s hard to see if he has a blush beneath his cold reddened cheeks. “Doubt I can find anything pretty as you in these boxes.”

It’s your turn to blush, for real, giving a soft snort and looking down to your box, hoping the cold hides your red cheeks too.

You set the ornament aside. Maybe you could use a reminder of a certain handsome cowboy on your own Christmas tree.


	2. day two: getting the tree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> set after marriage in reader and joel’s relationship. takes place after ellie finds out about the cure. minor trigger warning for descriptions of anxiety.

You weren’t sure you’d ever get used to watching anxiety consume Joel.

It was something you’d grown to recognize and help him with since even before your relationship—anxious fidgeting, avoiding your eyes, even just forgetting to breathe. It came and went in waves, around his birthday, during stressful weeks where nightmares consumed his precious few sleeping hours. His social anxiety had faded gradually as your friends became his, and work partners like Eugene became friends and not just acquaintances. 

He’d been healing, getting better. He had friends, his nightmares were few and far between, and you’d even been able to make him a birthday cake this year.

His fight with Ellie had changed all that.

He was good at hiding it—for your sake, and a little for Ellie’s too. But you’d learned to read him too well, and you could see the separation from his daughter had all but consumed him.

He stands now, fidgeting in front of a pretty pine tree the two of you had spent the afternoon picking out. You’re trudging back through the snow that nearly covers your boots, bringing the saw back from the horses. Meanwhile, he’s glancing over the tree, rubbing the broken glass of his watch face furiously. 

“Hey,” you call to him gently, as you approach. “What’s up?” 

He shakes his head, letting his hand drop away from his watch. “‘s a good tree,” he says, as if trying to convince himself.

You set the saw down against the trunk of the tree, and lean up on your tiptoes to cup his face in your hands—his cheeks warm against your skin, even in the freezing weather. “If you want another tree, I don’t mind.”

You kiss him gently, and almost on instinct, Joel’s hands drop to your waist. He tastes nice—a little like apple cider. You wonder absentmindedly if he had that instead of coffee this morning. You hadn’t been paying attention at breakfast.

“Nah,” says Joel, with a shaky exhale as you pull away. “‘s a good tree.”

The unasked question hangs in the air. 

Would Ellie like it?

Ellie had always come along to choose the tree, ever since her first Christmas in Jackson. This was the first year you’d ever had to choose without her. It felt strange. Hollow.

You don’t think Joel would have bothered with a Christmas tree if it hadn’t have been for you. You liked Christmas, and you’d been dropping not so subtle hints about a tree for weeks.

It wasn’t like Ellie was really in the house much, anymore. She dropped by to talk to you sometimes, when Joel was at work. She helped you make sugar cookies last week. Sometimes you convinced her you need her _and_ Joel’s help with something, but a chilly silence spread between them during those times.

But still, you understood Joel’s anxieties. It still felt like her house, even if she was never around. This was still a tradition with her. She still had to like the tree.

You tuck a loose strand of hair away from your cheek and behind an ear, scanning the tree yourself. “Maybe we should get her a tree,” you say.

There’s a long pause, as Joel slowly nods. “Yeah,” he says finally. “Yeah.”

* * *

You cut down your tree of choice, and rig it up behind Joel’s horse, Biscuit. Then the two of you march through the snow, deeper in the woods. 

You’d never really said you were going to get Ellie a tree. It was just an unspoken agreement, now.

You find one not far from the horses—a little thing, but the perfect size for Ellie’s little apartment. It’s a little lopsided, the top of it a little droopy, but that’s what makes it perfect.

“‘member that tree she made us get our first year here?” Joel asks, as he begins to cut it down.

You laugh, your breathe rising up into the icy air. “I was just thinking about that.”

“Said it had fuckin’...” He huffs with effort and a little fond frustration. “...character. Saddest lookin’ tree I’d ever seen.”

“I dunno,” you say. “I thought it was cute.”

“Yeah.” Joel says, as he rises, looking at the newly cut tree. “Yeah, it was.”

* * *

That evening, you pull out the boxes of Christmas decorations, and pull out some for Ellie’s tree. Joel finds a tree stand for it somewhere, and pulls out some of the extra sugar cookies to put on a plate. 

“You wanna take it over?” You ask.

He pauses. Nods.

You watch him take the tree, along with a box of decorations and a plate of cookies, and set them on her doorstep. He lingers for a moment at the door, as if considering. Then he knocks.

A beat. Two.

Ellie never comes.

Joel’s head drops a little, and he shoves his hands into his jacket pockets. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t break your heart a little.

* * *

But that night, if you see him watching from the windows, waiting for Ellie to wander home, you don’t mention it. You don’t mention his smile, as she eventually comes upon the little tree on her doorstep, as he watches her take a little moment to gently brush her hands along the branches before taking it inside.

And if he seems a little lighter, a little more at peace that night—well, you don’t mention that either.


	3. day three: ice skating.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> set anytime after joel and reader have moved in together. chapter contains minor alcohol mentions and joel being ~suggestive~ with reader

There’s a small pond in Jackson. It’s not even really big enough to have fish in it—maybe two hundred feet across if you’re being generous in your estimate. It had been some decorative pond in the middle of town, and remained that way for most of the year. No one really gave it a second thought.

Until Christmas, that is. One year—and you don’t entirely remember why—Maria and Tommy decided to make the frozen over pond their own little version of the Rockefeller ice rink or some shit. They found a little Christmas tree to put up in the center, covering it in decorations, and lacing lights and ribbon around the decorative fences that surrounded it. 

The town even had a supply of ice skates, from an actual official ice rink that had been transformed into a store house near the outskirts of town. 

This year, Maria and Tommy had been determined to have a date night on the rink.

Joel groans as he laces up his boots by the light of the Christmas tree. “Why the hell do we have to go to this again?” He asks, as you pull on your gloves and stretch your fingertips out a bit in them.

“‘cause. Tommy said he’d kill us if we weren’t there, and I’d like to be not dead.”

Joel rises, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close with a grin. “I’d like to see ‘im try.”

You huff a laugh, giving him a quick peck of a kiss, your hands coming up to rest against his cheeks. 

“C’mon,” Joel murmurs gently against your lips. “I’ll pour us some spiced rum, we can get cozy in front of the fire, see what’s under all these jackets…” His fingers wander up to pull the collar of your coat away from your neck, and he dips his head to place a kiss there, teeth grazing your skin a little in a way that makes you melt against him.

“Tempting,” you say, pushing him away gently, and he goes reluctantly. And it is tempting. Very tempting. A night in with Joel and a bottle of rum could only go one (very good) way. “But we promised Tommy and Maria we’d be there.”

Joel huffs softly, dipping his head to press a kiss to the temple of your forehead before pulling away from you. “Alright. Let’s get it over with then.”

* * *

Turns out, Joel is a shitty skater. He leans on you the entire time—a 6’3 man made of mostly muscle, against you—considerably shorter, and somewhat smaller than him. He nearly tips you over more than a few times.

All of this may have made for a worse date night if there hadn’t been provided alcohol. Instead you both get just a little tipsy—which doesn’t make the skating any easier, but it does mean you both erupt into giggles anytime you almost fall.

Eventually the two of you do fall, near the edge of the makeshift rink. It’s dark here, the Christmas lights glow only barely reaching you, and the street lights in this part of the park few and far between. 

Joel huffs a laugh as he sits up, and you lay there, catching your breath from the fit of giggles you’d just had. “You okay?” Joel asks, and you can feel him looking at you, ever the concerned boyfriend.

“Yeah,” you say breathlessly, sitting up slowly. You look at him and grin, as he grins back. “You’re a fucking terrible skater.”

He chuckles, shifting closer on the ice until you’re pressed against each other, looking out at the rink. “You can take the boy out of Texas…” he says.

“Sure.” You laugh. “Tommy seems to be doing fine though.”

“Tommy’s not drunk,” He says.

You sigh, breathlessly, not in any hurry to get up. Joel doesn’t seem to be either, as he presses a gentle kiss to your cheek before taking your hand in his.

“This wasn’t so bad, was it?” You ask, looking up to meet his eyes, and he smiles at you as you do.

“Nah.” He says gently. “It wasn’t.”


	4. day four: christmas songs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i call this: i have an intense desire to be held by joel and projected it onto this chapter

_ ‘Holy fuck _ ,’ you think, as you trudge through the Jackson snowdrifts, back to the safety and warmth of your own home. ‘ _ Today was shit.’ _

It had started with early morning bangs on your door—and when you said early morning, you meant it. 3:40 am, and someone is practically beating your door down. Joel had shot awake, reaching for his revolver on the bedside table, as you fumbled for Joel’s hoodie from the floor and slipped it on.

It was Liz, one of the other stable hands at the door. “Maizie’s foaling,” she says, breathlessly, and she barely even gives you time to process before she’s racing down the steps, looking at you expectantly.

“Shit,” you had groaned, scrubbing at your face. “Give me a second to get dressed.”

As you threw on the jeans you had discarded on the floor the night before, Joel asked if you wanted him to come help.

And you did—you loved working in the stables with Joel. But he had his own job to get to today—a batch of patrols would be heading out that he needed to oversee. And he should catch a few hours of sleep before that. Besides, there would be at least a few other people that had been summoned at this god awful hour to help out, and bringing Joel along would probably only overcrowd things. 

“No,” you tell him finally. “We can handle it.”

You kiss him goodbye briefly at the door, and head out into the cold.

Maizie was a horse that had been brought in from a long abandoned pasture nearby. She had been pregnant when the patrol group found her, but she’d been so skinny and malnourished, no one was really sure her baby would make it. Plus, she was half wild now, and being moved and retamed—even for her own good—had just stressed her out. As soon as you arrive at the stall, you can tell this is going to be a shit job. Maizie is huffing, the whites of her eyes showing, clearly upset that so many people are around. You convince everyone to back off, and you watch from a distance.

It doesn’t take you long to realize she’ll need help foaling. She’s too nervous, too small from months of malnutrition to deliver by herself. Which is how you end up in the stall with a half wild horse, trying to convince her you’re just trying to help.

The delivery takes hours, and you’re covered in horse shit and...other bodily fluids you try not to think too hard about. But mom and baby are okay—and you can almost breathe a sigh of relief. 

Almost.

You go looking for Joel for lunch—you’d skipped breakfast, so you’re quite frankly starving and you had wanted to tell him about your morning. But when you arrive at the gates, they tell you someone never arrived for patrols, so Joel had gone out himself.

So much for a relaxing lunch.

About halfway through your trudge back to the stables, you get called to the wall. There’s a hoard nearby, and they want to take them out before they get any closer.

And then, after all that, you got to go back to the stables and finish chores before closing things up for the night. 

A fuckin’ shitty day by all accounts.

So now, you’re trudging through the foot of snow on the ground, covered in a mixture of horse shit and clicker blood, exhausted, hungry, and honestly just ready to fall into bed.

You pull open the door to the house. It’s dark, quiet, and cold. Joel’s not back yet, and it makes your heart ache. A part of you just wants to sit on the floor and cry.

But you don’t.

Instead you kick off your boots on the mat, and carefully walk to the laundry room where you shed your filthy clothes. Then you head upstairs, flicking on Joel’s bedside lamp and wandering into the bathroom for a hot shower.

* * *

When you get out of the shower, the house is a little lighter. You can hear music coming faintly from downstairs. Joel’s coat is draped over a chair, and his revolver is tucked away near his lamp. You change into a worn pair of sweats that you stole from Joel long ago, and pad downstairs to find him setting the table and humming along to what you recognize now as Christmas music. 

“Hey darlin’,” he says, gently, as he sees you standing in the doorway.

His eyes light up as he sees you, his voice gentle and so so good—music to your ears on a day like today.

And you do finally break down a little. 

It’s just a tear, and you quickly swipe it away, but Joel misses nothing. He sets the plates down with a gentle clatter and rushes to you. 

“Oh hon,” he says softly, bundling you up in his arms.

He’s warm and solid against you, and you bury your face into the warmth of his shoulder, the softness of his sweater.

“What happened?” he asks gently, and you don’t have to look up—you can imagine the worry lines etched into his face, as if they’re etched into his very voice.

You shake your head. It’s too much to explain, and it seems so far away and stupid now that you’re here with him.

“Can we just…” you pause, not even sure what you want, exactly. “Can we just stay like this forever?”

Joel gives a soft chuckle—a little worried, you don’t miss that. But it’s gentle and full of love too, and you’ll apologize for worrying him later. Right now you just need this. 

“‘Course darlin’.”

He rests his chin on your head gently, keeping you buried against his chest. He begins to sway to the music slightly, humming  _ O Christmas Tree  _ ever so softly. 

And the world is a little better—almost okay. It’s Christmas, and Joel is here, and you can pretend the world is just that.


	5. day five: sharing a coat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the obligatory five times chapter

The first time Joel lends you his coat, it’s almost as if he’s acting on instinct. It’s late October—far enough in the year that Jackson is starting to get cold and see flurries of snow. You’d forgotten your jacket on guard duty—mind still stuck back in the sweltering heat of summer. You shiver, as a cold gust of wind sweeps along the guard towers, making you sway a little with the motion, and Joel’s hair gets a little messier than it already was. You wrap your arms around you a little tighter, as if that will protect you from a wind that’s quite frankly bone chilling.

Then Joel, almost without a thought, pulls his jacket off his own shoulders and offers it to you.

There’s a moment’s pause as the two of you stare at it between you—full of unspoken emotion and implications too fragile to touch. He looks like he’s going to say something.

You take it before he can.

“Thanks,” you say quietly, wrapping it around your shoulders. It smells nice, like pine and coffee and lemons, and it’s soft against your skin.

“Anytime,” Joel says, clearing his throat awkwardly.

* * *

The second time Joel lends you his jacket, it’s barely even cold.

You’re sitting, covered in the guts of a bloater whose head you had just caved in. Your neck and throat aches, the claw marks and bruises where it had held you already forming. You feel sick, like you can’t even breathe, like it’s still got a hold of you. When Joel reaches for you, you jump, imagining infected hands there for a moment before your brain catches up to reality.

Joel’s hand brushes your cheek gently. Drops to barely graze against the bruises on your neck. He’s saying something, but you can’t hear it over the pounding of blood in your head. 

He pulls you close, and you go willingly, nuzzling your face into the solidness of his chest, the faint smell of cologne on his yellow flannel shirt. When he lets you go, there’s blood where your face was.

Is that yours? Are you bleeding?

Joel pulls his jacket off, and ever so gently wraps it around your shoulders. You didn’t realize you were cold, but you’re shivering, so you must be.

Your brain manages to make out what Joel is saying, finally. 

“Are you bit?” He asks, voice wavering, almost like he doesn’t want to know at all.

“No,” you rasp, voice quiet, barely above a whisper, even though you could have swore you spoke louder. You wanted to speak louder.

“Fuck,” he says, eyes not leaving yours. “Never scare me like that again.” 

You don’t respond, throat too sore, and he doesn’t really need a response for that anyway. You just wrap your arms tighter around yourself within his coat.

* * *

The third time is after your first date. He’s walking you home, and you breathe out gently, watching your breath float up into the air. 

“‘s cold,” you tell him, gripping his hand a little tighter with yours as if to prove your point somehow.

“Here,” he says, pulling his coat off and helping you into it. “Better?”

You laugh gently, as he takes your hand again, and you continue the long round about way back to your house. “Aren’t you freezing?”

“I’ll survive,” he says with a soft chuckle. 

You wander up the streets, hand in hand, making small talk beneath the lights of the town. 

You stop in front of your house. He hesitates, as if uncertain about what to do. 

You lunge forward to kiss him. Hand pressed to his cheek, the other one resting on his shoulder, and he instantly melts into you. One of his hands drops to your waist, the other tangling in your hair. You can’t help but hum contentedly into his mouth—you’d imagined doing this over and over, tasting him, feeling him against you. 

You pull away, and he chuckles as you do.

“That was, uh—‘m—can I see you again sometime?”

You duck your head, suddenly shy, shoving your hands into the pockets of his jacket. “I’d love that.”

* * *

The fourth time Joel shares his jacket, you’re dressed in white, and he has a tux on. You’ve snuck away from the party, sitting behind the barn turned town center, drinking stolen wine from the party. You’re both a little tipsy, leaning against each other and laughing at nothing in particular. Joel has a flower crown on, and you can’t stop staring at the ring on his finger.

He leans into you, kissing your lips before moving to trail a string of kisses across your jaw, down your neck, and into your collarbone. 

“Joel,” you laugh, pressing a hand against his chest. “We do have to get back to the party at some point.”

He pulls away with a soft groan, before resting his head against yours gently. “Shoulda just skipped to the honeymoon.”

You turn your head, nuzzling your face into his beard a little and smiling against him. “Soon, baby.”

He pulls away to look at you, grin on his face, eyes full of love and emotion you’ll never grow tired of, never get used to. “Can’t believe I got to marry you.”

You huff a soft laugh, too full of sudden emotion to do much else. You pull him down to kiss his forehead softly. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he mumbles. 

“Okay,” you say, rising, and tugging him up with you. “Party time.”

“Wait,” he says, pulling off his suit jacket and wrapping it around your shoulders. “You’re gonna get cold like that.”

* * *

Now, you stand in front of the town Christmas tree, listening to people sing carols, while children laugh and play and throw snowballs at each other. You can see Ellie, on one of the benches nearby, Dina nestled into her side, her head resting on Ellie’s shoulder.

Joel comes up from behind her, kissing her head and tousling her hair in a way she pretends to be annoyed at. You don’t miss her grin though, and neither do Dina or Joel from the looks of it. Dina exchanges something with Joel that looks to be a joke, just a little at Ellie’s expense, judging by the way her nose scrunches at it. Joel laughs and says something back that earns him a half hearted punch from Ellie.

It makes you grin.

It will be the first Christmas that Ellie and Joel have been on good terms. You’d had a Christmas Eve dinner with her earlier, and she was planning on coming over with Dina tomorrow morning. Most of the presents under the Christmas tree were hers or Dina’s. Maybe you and Joel were making up for lost time a bit.

Joel comes to stand next to you, handing you a warm cup of cider he’d gone to find, and then wrapping an arm around you.

“Merry Christmas,” he mumbles against your ear.

You lean against him comfortably, taking a long sip of the cider and letting it warm you from the inside out.

“Would be a merrier Christmas if you let me use your jacket,” you tease, kissing his cheek.

And as always, Joel lends you his jacket.


End file.
